


P A N I C

by KarkatHorns



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coran is the real space dad here, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this to get through a stressful time, Other, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarkatHorns/pseuds/KarkatHorns
Summary: Short fic about Shiro having a bad time. If you've never had heart palpitations before, it can be absolutely horrifying. That, and panic attacks aren't always what people make them out to be. Sometimes it's hard to tell when you're panicking, or if something bad is happening to you, and I wanted to write about how that feels.





	P A N I C

**Author's Note:**

> I write stuff like this all the time but never post them, but I actually really liked this. ♥

The first time it happens, Shiro is convinced that he’s dying. He’s unable to sleep, which isn’t a unique situation, when his chest starts feeling really funny. His heart feels like it’s beating unevenly. Skipping a beat or two. It’s fluttering and uneven, and it feels absolutely horrifying. It’s not necessarily painful, but it’s strange and startling. Stressing about it more makes it worse, and before he realizes it, he’s breathing fast and his inhales are shaky, fingers squeezing at his shirt so tightly that his fingertips start to go white. The room feels like it is fading at the edges, and his hand start to go numb.

He must be having a heart attack, he thinks. There’s absolutely nothing else this could be. The Galra did a lot to his body for the whole year they have taken him, and it wouldn’t be a surprise that he could have a heart attack, despite his age. The idea makes his heart flutter worse, and he takes off immediately to find Coran. Somebody with enough medical expertise to give him something to thin his blood. His mind is focused on rationalities. He’s having a heart attack. He can’t breathe. His hands are numb. His vision is foggy. He feels dizzy and nauseated. He needs some type of blood thinner, because a heart attack is a blood clot in the heart cutting off blood circulation. His tissue could be dying. He has no time to lose.

He does manage to find Coran, in the halls on his way to his own room to get ready for bed. He catches the older man’s gaze Immediately, from the hyperventilation and all of the running. Coran looks startled first, and then concerned. There’s an emergency situation, and he’s already preparing himself to handle it. Shiro manages to grab his arm, still clutching his own chest with his prosthetic arm.

“Coran, I need a pod. I believe I’m having a heart attack. I don’t have any time to spare-“ Shiro starts. Coran, unsure about his human anatomy, understands the importance and nods strongly.

“I’ll prepare one for you right away, Shiro. Can you explain to me what a heart attack entails?” he asks, guiding Shiro to the medical bay with quick feet. He’s very calm and direct, which would be reassuring if Shiro didn’t feel like he was choking on air.

“Blood clot in the heart. Causes chest pain and other problems. Can travel to the brain and become a stroke,” he manages, breathing right. Coran keeps on walking to process this, and then moves to press his hand lightly on Shiro’s back. “Shiro, do you feel dizzy? Disoriented? Shortness of breath?” Coran asks, voice careful. Seeing that these mirror Shiro’s symptoms, he nods, and slows to match Coran's pace. Coran reached out to grab his hands, rubbing circles into the back of them with his thumbs.

“Shiro, before we go to the pods, let’s calm you down the best we can. Okay? I promise it will help some things,” he starts. Unsure why they would stall an emergency like this, Shiro’s breathing hitches, and he takes notice. His eyes are watering. Coran motions for him to sit down and he does, the old man still running circles into the back of his hand.  
“I want you to focus on your breathing, okay? You’re hyperventilating very strongly. I’m going to breathe in and out, mighty strong, like this,” Coran starts, demonstrating a deep breath. Shiro tries to copy him, but his chest is on fire and he feels shaky all over. Coran nods. “That’s it. Just keep copying me, alright? We’re going to get you sorted out. The pods will run a check on you,” he states.

Coran keeps breathing slowly, and Shiro copies him. He slowly starts to become more aware of his surroundings in the process, losing a bit of his tunnel vision. Coran is a medical professional in his eyes, so being around him makes him feel safer. Coran is continuing to rub his hands, and the sensation is both grounding and soothing, making him feel slightly less detatched from his body. When Shiro seems to be calming down, Coran seems to have figured it out.

“You’re doing great, Shiro. You’re okay. I wasn’t sure at first, but now I’m certain. You’re having a panic attack, my boy. You aren’t going to die. I can promise you that. We are still going to do some tests to make sure, but you’re in great hands right now. My hands. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that you’re doing alright,” Coran explains. His voice is soft, yet assertive, and Shiro finds his shoulders easing up a bit. A panic attack? He’s had them before, sure, but they usually have a trigger. A loud, clanking noise or two. Footsteps that sound a certain way. This was really bad, and he was certain that something must be wrong. Heartbeats don’t do that.

Still, Coran’s presence is soothing, and Shiro isn’t too prideful to ignore the fact that he’s crying. It’s not gross, ugly son’s or anything. His eyes are watering and his throat feels tight, and it’s now that he realizes the physical weight of the stress in his body. His legs feel like lead. His head hurts a lot from the hyperventilating and stress, a tension headache wrapping like 5000 rubber bands compressing his skull all the way around. Coran is holding his hands because they’re trembling somewhat violently, and Shiro realizes that his distress was obvious. Tangible. It hung in the air like the smell of something rotting, unable to be ignored.

With his breathing coming easier and his thoughts returning to him, he realizes now how absolutely embarrassed he is. He had a panic attack, which wouldn’t have killed him, hunted down Coran, and told Coran in complete confidence that he was in a near-death crisis situation. He stopped Coran from going to his room to get some rest, and was now taking up the already busy older man’s time to calm back down. He feels unimaginably stupid, and yet, he’s relieved that he isn’t alone right now. His limbs still feel shaky, breathing calm but still rough around the edges. Coran doesn’t move from their spot sitting together on the floor, voice still very calm and collected.

“How are you feeling, Shiro? Any better?”

“My lungs hurt and I feel really hot, but I feel really shaky for some reason. Chills. Shivering but it’s not all that cold in here,” Shiro manages.

Coran nods again, not moving or gesturing for Shiro to get up or start moving around just yet. “Remember to take deep, long breaths. When you’re more steady, I’ll take you to the pods and run a quick scan for you. If you still feel nervous and on-edge, it could be neurological, and the machine might give you a patch or dosage of medication so that you can relax further and get some rest. On top of that, we will be able to see if there are any other underlying issues other than the, well, panic,” Coran explains. Shiro can’t find the strength to keep on talking, so he manages a shaky nod and moves a hand back to rub at his eyes, trying to dry them. He’s okay. He’s not going to die. He’s fine.

After a while of breathing, Shiro realizes that his heart had stopped fluttering a while ago. It had still been doing it when he went to talk to Coran, but it was done now, and he was able to think somewhat more clearly. More than ever, he felt like everything was encapsulated in a heavy fog. Strong and making him feel numb, not physically like the hyperventilating had made his hands, but emotionally. Like he had reached calm but instead of getting there and settling down, the calm had pulled him slightly three inches to the left of his own body. Still, this is an improvement from before, and despite the strange sensation, it was comforting when moments ago there was nothing but panic.

Coran, probably seeing that Shiro had calmed as much as he could manage, asks Shiro something along the lines of whether he was okay or not. Shiro processed it as an unspecific statement. It felt oddly, despite Coran’s genuine worry and care, as if he was being talked at instead of talked to. Disconnected at the edges. He gets up with Coran’s help and Coran talks idly as he escorts Shiro over into the pod room, which is very much already nearby. Shiro can’t bring himself to speak, but he can bring himself to feel thankful.

Coran has Shiro change into a medical suit and step into the pod, assuring him that he won’t be asleep for very long. It’s a strange feeling, but there is something oddly calming about being put into the pod. It didn’t hurt, it was a promise of momentary sleep, and it was something that would make him feel better the best that it could. Coran does things to the pod's controls, and Shiro steps inside. It takes a good while before the pod actually kicks in, putting him to sleep quickly.

\---

Shiro wakes up feeling, strangely enough, in his own body. There was no way of placing it. He had stepped in the pod feeling disconnected and wrong, and everything seemed suddenly now that it first into place. His fingers were his own. His face is his own. He can move his foot or leg and it happens instantaneously. He feels very aware now, how much he had taken this for granted. The feeling of being in control of his own body. The sensation of awareness. He can feel his heart beating in his chest. He can count the seconds as they pass. He can control his breathing. Somehow, it all feels strange. Nice, though, to be in charge of his body, despite how odd that might seem to anybody else.

Coran is there when he wakes up, and he goes to touch the older man’s shoulder, the friendly and familiar gesture he likes to share with Keith when he can. “Thank you, Coran. I’m feeling a lot better,” he starts. Coran smiles back at him, and Shiro can see the smile lines on his eyes standing out.

“Not a problem, Shiro. Anytime you need me assistance, Coran's your helping hand!” he cheers. Shiro doesn’t seem to get it immediately, so Coran is quick to add “get it? It’s similar. It rhymes. Mostly,” he assures, as if he has just told the greatest joke in the world. Shiro manages a smile. Coran clears his throat.

Coran continues. “Anyhow, the scan did pick up on some anomalies. It’s what we Alteans know as Fight Sickness, the Screams, and Void Sickness. I believe the Screams is what you and the other paladins seem to call Panic Attacks. Bouts of panic brought on without a trigger. A very strong instinct to run away or fight that takes over your nerves and has nowhere to be directed towards. Fight Sickness is the result of trauma, of some degree. Tends to cause the Screa- er, the Panic Attacks, as you call them. The adrenaline and panic from war sickness is strong enough to create heart palpitations, which it seems that you had. Nothing to worrh about, though it is scary and undoubtably unpleasant. War Sickness also causes Void sickness,” Coran starts. He moves as if he is going to continue is monologue, but Shiro is starting to get the picture.

“Well Coran, I’m not completely sure about Void… sickness. But, humans can get something known as PTSD. It stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. After a trauma, something that causes stress to the person, reacting as if the trauma will happen again to them. It happens to Soldiers. That, at the very least, I can understand. When I started panicking, you seemed to already know the name for Panic Attacks. Is there anybody on the ship that I should be worried about?” Shiro questions. He knows for a fact that he hasn’t been the one to bring up the terminology, but he wasn’t aware of any of the other Paladins having a panic attack. He isn’t sure how regular of an occurrence it is, and it worries him, making his mind jump to conclusions. He’s a leader. He needs to be on top of things like this. It’s something he can’t afford to make any mistakes with.

“I’m not sure if I should talk on his behalf, but he did state that they were something he was used to dealing with,” Coran replies, honestly. He. So that rules out Pidge. Shiro makes an educated guess.

“Hunk? I know he has some issues dealing with stressful situations. I’m sure he gets anxious quite easily when he doesn’t feel in control of a situation,” Shiro manages. Lance was, well, Lance. Keith would have told him, regardless of whether or not he told Coran. It was a logical assumption.

Coran’s expression is solid, but his change in expression gives it away. “I’ll ask him about it separately, later. I just want to make sure that he’s doing alright,” Shiro insists. Coran seems to be thinking about something, and Shiro can’t place it. The older man meant it when he said he wasn’t going to physically confirm or deny anything, but Shiro could at least make an educated guess and go from there.

“Back to business, Shiro,” Coran starts, redirecting Shiro’s attention to his charts. “You said you didn’t understand Void Sickness. Well, I wouldn’t know is there is a human form of the name, but I do know that any being capable of catching Fight Sick can get it as a symptom. Some people have it on it’s own, however. It feels like one’s mind is disconnected at the edges. People can lose the ability to recognize their bodies as their own, whether it be the action of moving around or the action of looking in a mirror. One’s body does not feel like it belongs to them, or they feel like they are in it, but disconnected around the edges. It’s a separation from reality,” Coran explains. Shiro processes this, slowly. While he is aware of PTSD, this is something unfamiliar to him. It makes sense.

Shiro takes a moment to process before speaking. “On Earth, there is something called depersonalization. Which means that things that belong to you don’t seem like they do. I don’t know enough about it, but it seems like a part of what Void Sickness is. I don’t have access to any kind of file or database that can explain different health issues, so I can’t be completely sure of what I’m talking about, but that at least is a clue,” he comments. Coran nods, gently.

“Remember Shiro, that none of this is your fault. War Sickness, or TSPD-“

  
“PTSD”

  
“Right, I apologize. PTSD causes flashbacks. Nightmares. Panic attacks. Bouts of negative emotions with no real reasoning behind them. Negative feelings that come even when others are celebrating, or everything around you seems stable or otherwise positive. If you feel negativity, or feel panic, even when there seems to be no reason, be aware that this is not your fault. It will come to pass, though not immediately, and do not blame yourself for feeling that way. I can guarantee you, if you feel negative, afraid, angry, or unstable, and it seems that there is no reason for it, there is still a reason. Something that is very much there. It’s because you were hurt in the past, and it’s made you unwell. Nobody would blame another for the Slipperies, or another common illness. It is not their fault for becoming sick. It is not your fault either then, for not feeling at your utmost best some or even all of the time,” Coran explains. The older man watches over Shiro as he speaks, as if to be completely aware of whether or not Shiro wanted to say anything in reply.  
Shiro only nods, soft and grateful. Coran's words were a reassurance that he might need to hear multiple times, and it helped being told that this all wasn’t his fault. That he didn’t deserve this. That it hurt, that he was living like this, and that it was okay to be upset about it.

 

Coran continues. “And Shiro, if you have anybody that you need to talk to, please remember that I am always around. If not me, then the other Paladins would be glad to listen. I would never judge you, but if you feel that you would prefer a quieter audience, I have been made aware that Kaltinecker cannot communicate with anybody on the ship. If not me or the others, please at least tell her, because the act of saying challenging things out loud can be very helpful on its own,” he advises. Shiro is a bit startled by the suggestion, a smile twisting on his lips.

“On Earth, veterans with PTSD often get service dogs. They’re small animals that can vary in size and shape, but they are easily trained and love company and attention. Having the dogs to look after allows for people to stay grounded. It helps take away some of the negativity, because it helps talking to the dogs, and dogs have a tendency to be very unconditionally loving. A lot of war veterans can deal with depression a bit better because they know that they are directly responsible or looking after a living thing that absolutely depends on them. If they do risky things or things that put their lives in jeopardy, then they would be putting their pet at risk of not eating or not having a place to live, and that is enough for some people to stop doing a lot of things that could get them hurt,” Shiro explains. Talking about Service Dogs is something familiar, and it’s nice to explain some of that Earth culture to Coran. Despite the older man’s expression, it appears that he might be getting mixed messages about what Shiro is talking about.

“Well, Shiro, if you ever do anything risky, or worry about anything that might put your life in jeopardy, I ask that you go to your teammates directly for their help. Think of the lions in place of an Earth dog. They can’t go on without you, and your lion is dependent on your safety as a paladin, regardless of the war,” he replies, trying to be helpful. Shiro’s frown wavers somewhat.

“I didn’t mean to imply that I would do anything risky. I know that I am the leader of Voltron, and things wouldn’t work very well with me in any kind of trouble. Don’t worry about it, Coran,” he offers. Coran moves his hand slowly to Shiro’s shoulder. Reassuring.

“Just talking about theoretically, just in case. P-T-S-D is a dangerous thing. A viral infection is common and goes away practically on its own. A common illness. But we all must be careful, because it still has the power to cause harm. A strong fever or a vulnerable immune system away from something very real, and very sad. I ask that if things seem to be getting very bad, that you talk to me so that we can help as soon as possible. Don’t worry if it’s in the middle of the night, if I’m sleeping, I’d you’re already our with your lion, if you’re on a mission or in the middle of fighting, or even if we are in the middle of a diplomatic ceremony. If you need help, please do not hesitate. Please do not wait to speak up, regardless of any inconveniences you think may exist,” Coran requests.

Shiro honestly has to let that one sink in. To let it sink into his mind, one step at a time. Coran is right, and he knows it. He takes a deep breath and nods, quietly.

“Thank you, Coran. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you for staying with me while I was in the pod. I know that it’s late,” he manages. Coran smiles, fondly. Shiro feels almost as if he’s been adopted by the older man.

Coran stands up and stretches, his shoulder blades cracking. His smile is soft. Paternal.

“Any time, my boy. Now, we need to get ourselves some rest. Tomorrow is a new day,” Coran starts.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to talk? Message me at askingvoltron.tumblr.com 
> 
> Please leave comments. They are the lifeblood of the universe!


End file.
